


Piece by fragile piece

by bertie



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertie/pseuds/bertie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's left arm is rendered useless during a battle and losing it cracks the hold he'd had on his recovery. Steve stays by his side until a new one can be made and some feelings are shared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piece by fragile piece

**Author's Note:**

> written for the stevebucky_fest prompt: Bucky's metal arm is damaged in combat, for x reason they can't fix it for some days, and he refuses to wear a prostethic arm. Steve is off-duty to make him company. It's up to the author if they want this angst-y or h/c.

It has only been a few months since each and every doctor, therapist, and psychologist that the new S.H.I.E.L.D. could find had cleared Bucky for combat and Steve couldn’t be happier. Bucky was still adjusting and sometimes he didn’t go on missions with them because his anxiety was acting up or he couldn’t shake his night terrors. This mission was supposed to be simple, in and out and back home, but when their target tossed a handful of magnetic chips to the ground they immediately jumped onto Bucky’s arm. They latched onto the metal and waves of electricity rendered Bucky and his arm useless. Watching him scream and try to claw the chips off his arm made Steve hesitate in chasing after the escaping man.

“Stay with Bucky,” Sam said over the communications link. “I got him.”

Sam swooped past them and after a moment Steve heard muffled shouting.

“I need Stark at my location ASAP,” Steve knew he was yelling into the channel but Bucky’s cries were getting desperate.

His entire body was convulsing with the shocks and Steve knelt at his side. He was so careful to cup his hands around Bucky’s face, not wanting to hurt him further.

“Look at me, Buck.” He didn’t wait but after a moment glassy blue eyes met his. “Tony is coming and he’ll get your arm off. Do you know how to take it off?”

Bucky clenched his teeth and screamed, and Steve felt his entire façade crumble at the sight of his best friend in such pain. Tony landed a few feet from them, the suit releasing him quickly. He crouched beside them and nodded along as Steve explained what had happened. Steve watched him probe around Bucky’s shoulder. The skin there gave a bit, which meant the metal arm was not surgically connected to him. Tony pulled something out of his back pocket, a silver box that he pressed to the metal bicep. Every one of the chips retracted and fell away, the only noise left being Bucky’s sobbing cries. Tony felt down along the destroyed metal until he pressed against a gaping wound in the metal.

At the price of Bucky’s screaming, the arm detached itself and Tony could ease it away. What was left of Bucky’s arm was atrophied and a fat, ugly scar ran along where the skin had been stitched together but never properly left to heal. Bucky curled around himself, and Steve allowed him his comfort. The plane arrived and Steve gently slid his arms under Bucky to lift him.

“I’ve got you. We’re going home.” He carried him up onto the plane, refused to let anyone take him. “Get me water and blankets. He might be in shock.”

In moments Steve had Bucky wrapped in two blankets, sipping slowly from a water bottle. No one dared interrupt them and every time the plane hit turbulence Steve was right there to hold Bucky steady.

After Bucky finished most of the water, Steve capped it and pushed Bucky’s hair off his forehead. It was shorter than when he first came to them, but it still fell in his face occasionally.

“How’re you feeling?”

Bucky shivered and wiped his nose on the blanket, sniffling. “I’ve been worse.”

Steve made an involuntarily sad sound in the back of his throat. “How’s your pain?”

Bucky shivered violently, tears making another appearance. Steve said nothing, just moved to hold Bucky on his lap. He was shaking and choking on his sobs as he tried to hold them back.

“It’s okay, Buck, cry if you want. No one will think any less of you.” Steve held back his intake of breath when Bucky buried his face in his neck.

The flight didn’t last much longer and eventually Bucky succumbed to his exhaustion. Steve carried him off, still wrapped in the scratchy blankets they keep on the planes, but it was better than having his arm bared to the cold night air. He bypassed debriefing and snarled at anyone that got in his way. It was becoming more apparent to the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. that they should avoid Steve at all costs when it concerned Bucky, but sometimes mistakes were made.

Their floor of the Avengers Tower was dim and cool and quiet—just how they liked it. Steve decided to let Bucky sleep instead of waking him for a shower and nudged their bedroom door open with his hip. Bucky’s side of the bed was still messy from his nap before the mission and it was obviously his side from the indents in the metal headboard. Steve unwrapped the blankets from around his shoulders and let them fall to the floor. Bucky made a soft, pained noise when Steve laid him on the bed, but then his face smoothed out and he relaxed.

Steve didn’t sleep much that night, too wired to do anything but sit at Bucky’s side and watch for any signs of pain. Bucky slept through the rest of the night and into the morning but woke in a sweat at 8 o’clock.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Bucky, I’m right here.” Steve smoothed his hair back and rested a hand on his chest.

After a minute of deep breathing and Steve’s soft whispers, Bucky moved to sit up and froze.

“Can you get me a sweater?” He asked softly.

“Are you cold? I can turn the heat up.” Steve motioned out the bedroom door but Bucky shook his head.

“No, just— _please_.”

Steve saw how close Bucky was to losing what little composure he had left and jolted for the dresser. He pulled out one of his own sweaters and rounded the bed quickly, helping Bucky into it. It didn’t stop Bucky’s trembling and when he cupped his hand around the remainder of his left arm, Steve understood.

“Hey, Buck, why don’t we take a shower? You’re still covered in dust and I’m sure it will make you feel better,” he suggested, stroking the nape of Bucky’s neck.

“In a minute,” Bucky muttered, curling back up on his side of the bed.

Steve ran his fingers down Bucky’s spine as he moved away. He padded into the kitchen and opened the curtains to let light in. He retrieved a glass of water, a granola bar, and a cup of yogurt, returning to the bedroom.

“Can you eat something for me?” he asked as he tore the lid off the yogurt.

It took a long minute before Bucky answered. He just nodded once, eyes unfocused and it was obvious his brain was working on something totally unrelated to breakfast. He ate the yogurt half lying down but could only stomach half of the cup. Steve let him drink as much of the water as he wanted and he looked a little less weak after a minute or two.

“Come on,” Steve urged gently, holding his hands out to Bucky.

Bucky walked stiffly beside him, sore and still tired. Steve turned on the shower and pulled his shirt over his head. When he was undressed, he turned to Bucky, who was still completely dressed. He went to lift the sweater and Bucky swatted his hands away.

“Don’t, please, don’t,” he said, sounding so destroyed.

Steve let his hands fall away. “Bucky.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this. I can’t handle that.”

Bucky was shaking and backing up, but Steve caught his hand.

“Bucky, please, look at me.” He did. “I will never think any different of you. We already established that I love your arm because it’s a part of you. This is no different. This is still your arm.”

Steve didn’t let Bucky pull away when he touched his left arm. After a moment Bucky relaxed and let out the breath he had been holding. He didn’t say anything but he gave Steve a tiny smile and a nod. He lifted his arms when Steve pulled the sweater off and then his shirt followed. The warm water was very welcome and Bucky sighed audibly as he ducked under the spray. Steve smiled and reached for the shampoo, lathering up Bucky’s hair without being asked.

They finally got out after the water ran clear instead of black and Steve was so gentle as he helped Bucky towel off and dress in soft clothes. (Since coming to S.H.I.E.L.D., Bucky had kind of fallen in love with sweatpants and he rarely wears anything else around the Tower.) He chose a long-sleeved shirt and Steve retrieved a safety pin to tack up the empty sleeve for him.

Steve led Bucky to the elevator after they were dressed and instructed it to take them to Tony’s lab. Bucky hesitated in stepping off and Steve blocked the doors from closing with his foot.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he encouraged softly, holding Bucky’s hand.

Bucky opened his mouth, eyes flickering and slightly glassy. “I’m back in that bank. It wasn’t even a lab. They _took my memories away_ in a _bank._ ”

Steve kissed his knuckles, rubbing his hand in hopes to ground him. “You’re safe now, Bucky. I won’t let them take you away from me again.”

Bucky sobbed once and ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for; nothing at all. I’m right here.”

He pressed Bucky’s hand to his chest; let him feel the heat of his skin and the beating of his heart. Bucky leaned into him, pressed his ear to Steve’s chest.

“It’s okay, Buck, you’re safe. Tony will not hurt you. All you have to do is say stop and he will. We can take as many breaks as you need. It’s alright.”

Bucky nodded and he didn’t smile, but he reached desperately for Steve’s hand. Tony’s lab was messy as usual, with half-finished suits displayed on the biggest wall. He was bent over a table, expertly soldering two pieces of metal together. He looked up at them when Steve rapped his knuckles on the table.

“Oh, good, you’re here!” Tony pushed away from the table. “I have some ideas for your new arm that I want you to see.”

When Bucky made no move to follow Tony, Steve nudged him along. “You’re safe here.”

Steve stuck close behind him, touching him whenever he could to ground him. After a few minutes of Tony droning on about the different additions that could be built into Bucky’s arm, Steve felt Bucky relax and lean back against his chest. It was the first time Bucky had initiated any sort of affection and Steve nearly pulled away in case he didn’t mean it. When Bucky didn’t make to move away, even as he agreed and disagreed with Tony’s suggestions, Steve wound his arms around Bucky’s waist.

“If you don’t mind, I need to take some measurements of your arm to make sure this thing is perfect.”

Bucky hesitated so Steve squeezed him gently. He could see Bucky chew on the inside of his cheek, something he’d adapted to ground _himself._

“Okay,” he said, following after Tony.

Tony patted a raised, cushioned chair and Steve saw Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Uhh, Tony, do you think he could sit on a stool or on a table or something?” Steve asked, curling his fingers into Bucky’s hipbone.

“Wha—?” Tony turned around and must have seen the look on Bucky’s face. “Sure, yeah.”

He pulled a stool out from under the table and Bucky moved slowly to sit. Steve helped him pull his shirt off and laid it over his shoulder so his hands were free to rest on Bucky’s waist from behind him.

“Keep breathing, Buck,” he said softly, rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles.

When Tony whipped out his measuring tape and came over to them, Bucky whispered to him, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Tony said as he measured the circumference of Bucky’s left arm.

He took the pencil from behind his ear and scribbled the number down on a piece of paper. He continued take measurements of every inch of Bucky’s arm and shoulder, occasionally checking in that Bucky was okay.

“Okay. Now, are there any specific adjustments you want made to the arm?” Tony asked, leaning over his paper to take notes.

Steve was helping Bucky back into his t-shirt, and Bucky kind of shrugged. “Maybe…tone down the strength. It’s nice to have but I don’t want to accidentally hurt any of you.”

Tony scribbled again and Steve rubbed Bucky’s back like he knew he used to love. It earned him a barely-there sigh and the tiniest slouch in his shoulders. They were dismissed from the lab with a distracted wave in the direction of the elevator as Tony moved away, talking to himself.

Once back in their apartment, Bucky curled up in his favorite armchair by the wall of windows. Steve dragged his chair closer so he can put his feet up on the arm of Bucky’s chair and they could talk.

“Do you have an appointment today?”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s tomorrow.”

Steve nodded calmly. “Okay. What do you want to do today?”

Bucky shrugged again, still looking out over the city. After a few long minutes of silence, he spoke without turning his head. “Steve, I want to thank you.”

He straightened up in his chair and leaned forward a bit. “Why is that?”

Those blue eyes—so much brighter than before and still betraying every one of Bucky’s emotions—met his and Bucky smiled shyly.

“You believed in me when no one else did. You trusted me not to kill you and I don’t know how you knew but you _did._ You knew I wouldn’t kill you and you _let me hurt you._ All because you believed in me.”

Steve put his feet down and leaned over the space between their chairs. He took Bucky’s hand. “I always believed in you. Ever since we were kids. You are too important for me to have just given up on you. I never once doubted you or feared you.”

Bucky lurched forward and wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck, squeezing him tight as he kissed him full on the mouth. Steve smiled into the kiss and settled back in his chair, taking Bucky with him.

“I love you,” Bucky said, his lips millimeters from Steve’s. “I’ve loved you since we met and I’ll keep loving you ‘til the end of the line.”

Steve smiled and tipped his head back to see Bucky. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Bucky scowled at him, but the flush on his cheeks and the ruby red of his lips just diminished the value of the look.

“You’re a punk,” he grumbled, sounding just as petulant as the old Bucky.

“But I’m _your_ punk.” Steve tilted his head and grinned when Bucky’s blush traveled down his neck.

“God, I love you more than anything,” he growled, kissing Steve again hungrily.

They kissed for a long time, varying between gentle and sweet and hard and starving, almost as if they were making up for all the lost time.

Steve rubbed his hands up and down Bucky’s back, feeling all the strong muscle rippling under the skin. He could feel the scars but he only saw them as a visualization of just how alive Bucky was now. He was alive and he was in Steve’s lap and he was _kissing him._

Days passed slow and lazy after their little realization. Steve took Bucky down to the lower levels of the tower where their medical team resided for his therapy appointment. Bucky had been very hesitant to accept the stipulations S.H.I.E.L.D. had set for him. He had to see multiple therapists and undergo psychological evaluations every few weeks when he first arrived but now he saw the one therapist every week or whenever he needed and only had a psych evaluation every two months until a year passed from him officially joining S.H.I.E.L.D.

After a third day, Tony called them down to his lab to try out Bucky’s new arm. When they arrived, Bucky didn’t hesitate in stepping off the elevator and Steve just smiled. The chair still posed a problem though.

“No, I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Bucky was backing up quickly like Tony and Steve were converging on him, but neither of them moved.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said, soft and hopefully comforting. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Bucky sank to the floor, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Sometimes Steve forgot how fragile Bucky still was and apparently losing the most powerful part of him had caused the resistance he had built up to crack. Then came the times when Steve was horribly reminded how far Bucky still had to go before he was close to his original self again. But that didn’t stop him from believing in Bucky and helping him to his feet when he fell.

“Hey,” Steve moved slowly and sat on Bucky’s right side. “What if Tony came over here, hm?”

Bucky wiped at the tears trying to fall and sniffed, lips trembling. “I want to get in the chair.”

“Okay. Take your time.” Steve stroked Bucky’s hair out of his face, tucking some behind his ear.

Tony didn’t bother them, staying where he was and tinkering with the three different arms he’d put together for Bucky. It was a few minutes of Bucky holding onto Steve’s hand and taking deep breaths to control his breathing before he could stand up again. But he did and with Steve at his side he sat in the chair beside Tony.

“Do you want me to turn on the radio?” Tony asked, still not bothering them.

“Here,” Steve said, pulling out the smart phone he still struggled with using. “Put on this playlist.”

“Ooh, Cap’s learning the lingo of the twenty-first century,” Tony jibed, but he plugged the phone up to an auxiliary cord.

Familiar white noise and a blaring swing band started up and Bucky actually smiled up at Steve.

“I remember this song.”

Steve chuckled, pulling a stool up on Bucky’s other side to hold his hand. “It was our song.”

Bucky nodded, tears forming again, but he was still smiling. He reached out to cup his hand around Steve’s cheek, and Steve smiled sweetly at him.

“Are you ready?” Steve asked him.

Another nod, and Tony swiveled around to them. He explained the differences of each arm and fitted them to Bucky’s left shoulder. They were all perfect fits and it was just up to Bucky which features he wanted.

“I don’t want anything too wild,” he said, glancing at the one Tony had outfitted to launch— _something_. Steve hadn’t been paying attention, too busy watching Bucky.

“So something simple, less strength than the previous arm but still powerful,” Tony muttered, reaching for the one farthest away from him. “No extras, just an arm.”

Bucky nodded, and Tony fitted the arm onto his shoulder. Something whirred and Bucky tensed for a moment, but when he relaxed the metal fingers stretched and curled into the palm.

“Perfect,” he said, actually smiling at Tony. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you ever need any adjustments or want to talk more advanced designs for missions, you know where to find me.”

With that, Tony stood and wandered over to a different table. Steve took Bucky’s right hand just in case he was unsure about his new one and helped him out of the chair.

“Do you want some lunch?” He asked as they walked to the elevator.

“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street that makes a mean chocolate malt like the old days,” Bucky said and Steve’s chest filled with warmth

It was a slow process but he was getting his old Bucky back piece by fragile piece.

**Author's Note:**

> the song Steve has Tony play is "Mr. Wonderful" by Peggy Lee


End file.
